Sheila’s Story: Next Door Neighbor

When I was in college in the late 1970s, for a year I shared a house with 3 other girls off-campus. There was a houseful of boys next door.
One night I came home about 10pm to a roaring party in the house I shared with the 3 other girls. I went straight to my bedroom, and fell asleep. Later, I was awakened by a very drunk boy who lived in the house next door. My bedroom door didn’t have a lock on it. He came in and got on top of me and before I knew it, he was raping me. Saying “howdy neighbor” in a leering way. I tried to push him off but couldn’t, and I struggled and called for help, but the party was still raging and nobody heard me over the loud music. At some point, I remember thinking if I quit struggling I was less likely to get hurt, and it would be over sooner, so I just laid there as he humped away.
After that night, for the rest of the semester I didn’t sleep in that house, sleeping in one of the buildings at the college instead, and hiding when security guards came around.
This all came rushing back to me when Dr. Ford was criticized for not remembering some of the details surrounding her attempted rape by Brett Kavanaugh.
The boy was my neighbor, and back then, I knew his name. I cannot remember his name, nor can I remember my 3 female housemates names. I also cannot remember the street we lived on, or the date this happened. I felt ashamed I didn’t fight back harder. Back then, people didn’t report things.

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